allanpcameron
Donor
'Talk to birds'? Wouldn't it be dames? Seems too modern. Sorry to nitpick, 'cause this is great.
Allan
Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2
- Thread starter fester
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Allan
Back to this story for the first time in a year. Picked up a couple of things.
Missed a threadmark.
Is this a new HMS London or the ghost of HMS London which you blew up in Story 1770?
I had the chance to climb over a Goodyear FG-1 Corsair at RNAS Yeovilton. Fantastic aircraft - though I hope it was of better build quality than the Brewsters. Unusually, post war, though it received a layer of laquered paint, it was never stripped. So a conservation effort was mounted and the entire wartime colours emerged tired but undamaged on KD431. Even had some personal touches from pilots who flew it.
Hawkers at Kingston-upon-Thames had absolutely no flying facilities, and to a certain extent flying of larger aircraft was severely limited for Vickers at Brooklands who had to ferry on fumes to Wisley for fitting and flight testing.
Missed a threadmark.
Is this a new HMS London or the ghost of HMS London which you blew up in Story 1770?
I had the chance to climb over a Goodyear FG-1 Corsair at RNAS Yeovilton. Fantastic aircraft - though I hope it was of better build quality than the Brewsters. Unusually, post war, though it received a layer of laquered paint, it was never stripped. So a conservation effort was mounted and the entire wartime colours emerged tired but undamaged on KD431. Even had some personal touches from pilots who flew it.
Hawkers at Kingston-upon-Thames had absolutely no flying facilities, and to a certain extent flying of larger aircraft was severely limited for Vickers at Brooklands who had to ferry on fumes to Wisley for fitting and flight testing.
Story 2418
Ishigaki, Japan February 9, 1944
Two bomb groups of Liberators pressed forward. Ten minutes in front of them were two squadrons of fighters flying from recently captured island bases. The bomber pilots checked their gauges as the gunners search the sky for glints of light and reflections from Japanese interceptors that had either broken through or avoided the bombers' escorts. The enlisted men moved their heavy machine guns from side to side as their eyes scanned. Soon all they could see was clouds and flak bursting. The bombardiers fiddled with knobs and dials until each of the bombers suddenly lightened up by several tons and the engines could haul them forward even faster.
18,000 feet below them, half a dozen pyres were burning as Japanese pilots with only a few hundred hours in machines that were top rate in 1942 and adequate in 1943 had been felled by a numerically superior foe where the newest nugget was working on their four hundreth hour including two hundred or more hours in some of the most advanced machines on earth. The section and squadron leaders were routinely approaching a thousand hours or more including several hundred hours of combat time. It was not an even contest and the next raid, the contest would be even more tilted towards the Americans as the bombs struck the airfield, destroying one of the main repair areas and killing a dozen experienced technicians. Even more bombs hit the harbor, sinking a trio of coasters and a pair of minelayers.
The bombers would be back soon enough.
Two bomb groups of Liberators pressed forward. Ten minutes in front of them were two squadrons of fighters flying from recently captured island bases. The bomber pilots checked their gauges as the gunners search the sky for glints of light and reflections from Japanese interceptors that had either broken through or avoided the bombers' escorts. The enlisted men moved their heavy machine guns from side to side as their eyes scanned. Soon all they could see was clouds and flak bursting. The bombardiers fiddled with knobs and dials until each of the bombers suddenly lightened up by several tons and the engines could haul them forward even faster.
18,000 feet below them, half a dozen pyres were burning as Japanese pilots with only a few hundred hours in machines that were top rate in 1942 and adequate in 1943 had been felled by a numerically superior foe where the newest nugget was working on their four hundreth hour including two hundred or more hours in some of the most advanced machines on earth. The section and squadron leaders were routinely approaching a thousand hours or more including several hundred hours of combat time. It was not an even contest and the next raid, the contest would be even more tilted towards the Americans as the bombs struck the airfield, destroying one of the main repair areas and killing a dozen experienced technicians. Even more bombs hit the harbor, sinking a trio of coasters and a pair of minelayers.
The bombers would be back soon enough.
Story 2419
Naples, Italy February 10, 1944
The 501st Parachute Infantry Brigade was marching up the gangways of a pair of fast troopers. The engineer company, artillery battalion, the brigade headquarters and two of the parachute infantry battalions were on one ship while the other ship had the rest of the brigade as well as the men from a pair of independent tank battalions and a single tank destroyer battalion aboard. They were heading to England to stiffen the ever widening gyre of fresh from the state brigades, divisions and corps.
Easy Company had it easy. Five days of liberty in the port city had been enjoyed by all after a long and earnest conversation about the need for rubbers and the value of cigarettes. It was nothing that none of the men had not heard before, but the soft spoken words from the Old Man and the very pointed language from the sergeants had made sure the message was carried home. Only one man would not be comfortably pissing by the time the convoy passed Gibraltar. He would be run ragged as the Old Man allowed the sergeants to resolve that problem.
While they relaxed, over forty thousand men worked the docks. Half were Americans, mostly Negro labor troops loading and unloading ammunition ships or sorting through the massive warehouses next to both the rail yards and the roadheads that supplied the 5th Army with an ever expanding river of supplies. The other half were Italians who had worked the docks before the war, during the war, and who would be planning to work the docks after the war. Cranes quickly moved tanks out of the holds of Liberty ships, while stevedores moved sacks of flour, and C-rations and spare parts for every engine of war in a never ending ballet.
The 501st Parachute Infantry Brigade was marching up the gangways of a pair of fast troopers. The engineer company, artillery battalion, the brigade headquarters and two of the parachute infantry battalions were on one ship while the other ship had the rest of the brigade as well as the men from a pair of independent tank battalions and a single tank destroyer battalion aboard. They were heading to England to stiffen the ever widening gyre of fresh from the state brigades, divisions and corps.
Easy Company had it easy. Five days of liberty in the port city had been enjoyed by all after a long and earnest conversation about the need for rubbers and the value of cigarettes. It was nothing that none of the men had not heard before, but the soft spoken words from the Old Man and the very pointed language from the sergeants had made sure the message was carried home. Only one man would not be comfortably pissing by the time the convoy passed Gibraltar. He would be run ragged as the Old Man allowed the sergeants to resolve that problem.
While they relaxed, over forty thousand men worked the docks. Half were Americans, mostly Negro labor troops loading and unloading ammunition ships or sorting through the massive warehouses next to both the rail yards and the roadheads that supplied the 5th Army with an ever expanding river of supplies. The other half were Italians who had worked the docks before the war, during the war, and who would be planning to work the docks after the war. Cranes quickly moved tanks out of the holds of Liberty ships, while stevedores moved sacks of flour, and C-rations and spare parts for every engine of war in a never ending ballet.
The DEI campaign was an attrition campaign that the IJN air arm and IJAAF lost but not to the same extent as the Solomons campaign. There are more Japanese veteran pilots and the death spiral is real but slightly different in this timeline than OTL.
One could imagine that death spiral accelerating rapidly once the bombing of the Home Islands commences. Similar to the destruction of the Luftwaffe day fighter arm in OTL in the months leading up to D-day.
Story 2420
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania February 11, 1944
The shipyard whistle blew. Mrs. Jaroshek put down her tools in the work gang's storage area. She had spent all day welding the hull of a tank carrying landing ship, one of the dozens in various stages of construction along the Ohio River. It was hard work, but it was good work. She and her crew were one of the more experienced gangs in the yard, and as long as they were not tripping over other teams doing other tasks, they could finish a seam faster and better than almost anyone else. She, and hundreds of other women, began the process of converting themselves from being workers to women again as overalls came off and hands and faces were washed before lipstick was re-applied. Soon she had her fingers in wool lined leather gloves and a hat pulled tight over her head as she stood in the pay line. Thirty minutes later, she caught a bus that would take her to a funicular that would soon bring her to her home. By the time she had arrived at the house and had started dinner, Victor should be receiving his pay from the coal mine.
As the women gossipped at the bus stop, she was able to drop the best piece of news to her biddies; she would be a grandmother yet again. Her son, the Marine ace, had telegraphed her last night that her daughter in law was expecting again. Three times in just under four years; they sure stayed busy whenever Josh was home.
The shipyard whistle blew. Mrs. Jaroshek put down her tools in the work gang's storage area. She had spent all day welding the hull of a tank carrying landing ship, one of the dozens in various stages of construction along the Ohio River. It was hard work, but it was good work. She and her crew were one of the more experienced gangs in the yard, and as long as they were not tripping over other teams doing other tasks, they could finish a seam faster and better than almost anyone else. She, and hundreds of other women, began the process of converting themselves from being workers to women again as overalls came off and hands and faces were washed before lipstick was re-applied. Soon she had her fingers in wool lined leather gloves and a hat pulled tight over her head as she stood in the pay line. Thirty minutes later, she caught a bus that would take her to a funicular that would soon bring her to her home. By the time she had arrived at the house and had started dinner, Victor should be receiving his pay from the coal mine.
As the women gossipped at the bus stop, she was able to drop the best piece of news to her biddies; she would be a grandmother yet again. Her son, the Marine ace, had telegraphed her last night that her daughter in law was expecting again. Three times in just under four years; they sure stayed busy whenever Josh was home.
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Story 2421
Po River Valley, February 12, 1944
Corporal Jaroshek fired once, twice, three times. He did not look at what he hit or did not hit. He did not care. He rolled slightly to his left, A moment later, a string of machine gun bullets ripped into the space where he had been. Evidently, his suppressive fire was neither particularly suppressive nor effective. He did not care. The BAR gunner sent a few quick rounds down range as the other riflemen in the squad moved forward in a dash. One man was hit, his leg was opened by a mortar fragment. Another man's helmet saved him as a machine gun round richocheted off a stone and concussed him through the steel helmet.
The platoon's attack was slowing down. The LT was wounded as he had been trying to rally the 3rd squad. The platoon sergeant sent a runner/mud-crawler back to the company command post only a hundred yards to the right. Soon the old man had the radio operator working hard as the entire attack was getting held up. Another platoon was ordered to head slightly east and hook the position while the men under fire would form a base of fire to enable the maneuver elements to move. Support was coming in quickly. The battalion mortars began to lay down a barrage of high explosive shells. Six minutes later, two batteries of 105's joined the cacophony. Twenty seven minutes later, a quartet of Shermans arrived from battalion reserve. They bounded into overwatch and attack as they supported the maneuvering platoon with high explosive shells and machine gun strings.
Corporal Jaroshek fired once, twice, three times. He did not look at what he hit or did not hit. He did not care. He rolled slightly to his left, A moment later, a string of machine gun bullets ripped into the space where he had been. Evidently, his suppressive fire was neither particularly suppressive nor effective. He did not care. The BAR gunner sent a few quick rounds down range as the other riflemen in the squad moved forward in a dash. One man was hit, his leg was opened by a mortar fragment. Another man's helmet saved him as a machine gun round richocheted off a stone and concussed him through the steel helmet.
The platoon's attack was slowing down. The LT was wounded as he had been trying to rally the 3rd squad. The platoon sergeant sent a runner/mud-crawler back to the company command post only a hundred yards to the right. Soon the old man had the radio operator working hard as the entire attack was getting held up. Another platoon was ordered to head slightly east and hook the position while the men under fire would form a base of fire to enable the maneuver elements to move. Support was coming in quickly. The battalion mortars began to lay down a barrage of high explosive shells. Six minutes later, two batteries of 105's joined the cacophony. Twenty seven minutes later, a quartet of Shermans arrived from battalion reserve. They bounded into overwatch and attack as they supported the maneuvering platoon with high explosive shells and machine gun strings.
Story 2422
Palawan, February 13, 1944
Captain Ibling looked over his men. B Company, 1st Battalion, 45th Infantry Regiment (PS) was a reconstituted unit. Some of the men, like the captain, had fought on Bataan and had ben evacuated. Some of the men, like the 1st Platoon leader and three out of the four squad leaders in 2nd Platoon, had fought as guerillas on Palawan after they had received basic training as pre-war conscripts. Most of the men had minimal pre-war training but had eagerly voluneteered over the summer at an opportunity to both feed their families as the American Army paid better than manual laborers could make, and to get revenge on the Japanese for the murders, rapes and larceny that had been a near regular occurrence during the occupation of the island.
Eight months of training culminated in battalion and regimental maneuvers over the past two weeks. Half a dozen men under his command were on the sick call. Two men were non-deployable with broken bones, while the other four would soon be able to rejoin the company. They had trained hard and while these new Scouts were not the long service professionals of the pre-war Scouts, they were still far better than the conscripts who had held most of the line on Bataan for well over a year without relief. These men were well armed, well equipped, well supported and well fed. He had gained twenty seven pounds in ten months even as he was building a company up from scratch. Three, and sometimes four square meals a day plus field rations and plentiful cash for the post-exchange had an effect.
"COMPANY DISMISSED"
Tomorrow the regiment would be heading to Bataan to assume blocking positions. The Japanese soldiers who were still alive and in formed units on the island had mostly retreated to the arduous interior. There were few civilians to protect in the mountains and the forest. There was little need to advance to contact solely to destroy units that, as long as they stayed put, were inconsequential. Active patrolling and plentiful heavy weapons spotted on pre-registered killzones would be the mission of the regiment as other American infantry units needed time to rest, recuperate and integrate replacements before the next big push.
Captain Ibling looked over his men. B Company, 1st Battalion, 45th Infantry Regiment (PS) was a reconstituted unit. Some of the men, like the captain, had fought on Bataan and had ben evacuated. Some of the men, like the 1st Platoon leader and three out of the four squad leaders in 2nd Platoon, had fought as guerillas on Palawan after they had received basic training as pre-war conscripts. Most of the men had minimal pre-war training but had eagerly voluneteered over the summer at an opportunity to both feed their families as the American Army paid better than manual laborers could make, and to get revenge on the Japanese for the murders, rapes and larceny that had been a near regular occurrence during the occupation of the island.
Eight months of training culminated in battalion and regimental maneuvers over the past two weeks. Half a dozen men under his command were on the sick call. Two men were non-deployable with broken bones, while the other four would soon be able to rejoin the company. They had trained hard and while these new Scouts were not the long service professionals of the pre-war Scouts, they were still far better than the conscripts who had held most of the line on Bataan for well over a year without relief. These men were well armed, well equipped, well supported and well fed. He had gained twenty seven pounds in ten months even as he was building a company up from scratch. Three, and sometimes four square meals a day plus field rations and plentiful cash for the post-exchange had an effect.
"COMPANY DISMISSED"
Tomorrow the regiment would be heading to Bataan to assume blocking positions. The Japanese soldiers who were still alive and in formed units on the island had mostly retreated to the arduous interior. There were few civilians to protect in the mountains and the forest. There was little need to advance to contact solely to destroy units that, as long as they stayed put, were inconsequential. Active patrolling and plentiful heavy weapons spotted on pre-registered killzones would be the mission of the regiment as other American infantry units needed time to rest, recuperate and integrate replacements before the next big push.
In Pittsburgh we call them Inclines. Great story keep it coming.
Yep, I love the view from the Mount Washington incline, but for generalizability, had to go with the generic term
Bataan holding throughout the whole siege, plus the reconstitution of those units, has got to be massive for morale back home as well as in the Philippines. Plus those tens of thousands of American and Filipino soldiers free up other units that won't have to get sidetracked to clearing out the Philippines.
I understand. I used to live on Grandview Ave on Mount Washington and commuted every day on the Monongahela Incline. Then I got married and my wife wanted a garden. I still miss waking up to that view and the easy commute. Well since I am not retired the commute is irrelevant, Happy New Year.Yep, I love the view from the Mount Washington incline, but for generalizability, had to go with the generic term
Errr... Then you should use the correct word....Yep, I love the view from the Mount Washington incline, but for generalizability, had to go with the generic term
funicular
Story 2423
The Pacific Ocean, February 14, 1944
Seaman Jaroshek and a dozen other sailors secured the fueling hawser. Below them, a Fletcher class destroyer slowly edged away from the port side of USS North Carolina. Across the deck, another work gang was waiting for the destroyer's division mate to finish refueling. The chief supervising the evolution soon was chivying the men to prepare for another tin can to get a sip from the Showboat's bunkers.
Eight hours later, the fleet was ready for action. Jaroshek did not care, he had a hot cup of coffee and a warm donut to dunk into the cup minutes before he had to start his watch. Sleep would come in five hours.
Seaman Jaroshek and a dozen other sailors secured the fueling hawser. Below them, a Fletcher class destroyer slowly edged away from the port side of USS North Carolina. Across the deck, another work gang was waiting for the destroyer's division mate to finish refueling. The chief supervising the evolution soon was chivying the men to prepare for another tin can to get a sip from the Showboat's bunkers.
Eight hours later, the fleet was ready for action. Jaroshek did not care, he had a hot cup of coffee and a warm donut to dunk into the cup minutes before he had to start his watch. Sleep would come in five hours.
Story 2424
Corpus Christi, Texas February 15, 1944
The Marines aboard the train had a show to watch. They hooted and hollered as their young Major enthusiastically kissed his wife one last time. The whistle blew to gain the skipper's attention. He gestured aggressively at the engineer while breaking his kiss. His wife held her tears in as her hands dropped from his neck to her slightly rounded belly while her husband, her lover, her companion and her friend dropped to a knee and gave her almost school age daughter a hug, and gently head bumped their toddler.
He climbed up the stairs and soon the train pulled out the station. The fighter squadron was being relocated to El Centro operating base in California. Brand new aircraft were allocated to be delivered in two weeks. The squadron would have a week to bed down and organize itself before three months of intensive training before it was deployable. Families could not stay on the base. There was no room. There might be apartments and housing in the nearby town or San Diego but Margaret Jaroshek refused to uproot her life until Josh could scout out the opportunities. She and the children would come if there was housing. She had no interest of getting on a three day train trip and then returning to Chicago to her family if there was nothing for her family.
The Marines aboard the train had a show to watch. They hooted and hollered as their young Major enthusiastically kissed his wife one last time. The whistle blew to gain the skipper's attention. He gestured aggressively at the engineer while breaking his kiss. His wife held her tears in as her hands dropped from his neck to her slightly rounded belly while her husband, her lover, her companion and her friend dropped to a knee and gave her almost school age daughter a hug, and gently head bumped their toddler.
He climbed up the stairs and soon the train pulled out the station. The fighter squadron was being relocated to El Centro operating base in California. Brand new aircraft were allocated to be delivered in two weeks. The squadron would have a week to bed down and organize itself before three months of intensive training before it was deployable. Families could not stay on the base. There was no room. There might be apartments and housing in the nearby town or San Diego but Margaret Jaroshek refused to uproot her life until Josh could scout out the opportunities. She and the children would come if there was housing. She had no interest of getting on a three day train trip and then returning to Chicago to her family if there was nothing for her family.
Story 2425
Sea of Japan, February 16, 1944
The fleet was at sea as a coherent whole for the first time in over a year. Two purpose built fleet carriers and four conversions of various usefulness comprised the primary air striking arm. The three monster battleships with their foot and a half guns were the core of the gun line. A few ships built before the Tokyo Earthquake could have beefed up the numbers, but the value that they contributed did not justify the oil that they would burn. Half a dozen cruisers including Asama and Ibuki were operating to brush aside any screen and to act as limited radar pickets. Two dozen escorting destroyers looked for American and British submarines, although the minefields at Tshumina had probably worked as no ships had been torpedoed in this confined sea since the war began.
Two days to train together, two days to revisit doctrines that had been revised while officers waited for their ships to be repaired. Two days to make a collection of hulls into a plausible fleet. It would not be enough, but it was what the oil reserves would allow.
The fleet was at sea as a coherent whole for the first time in over a year. Two purpose built fleet carriers and four conversions of various usefulness comprised the primary air striking arm. The three monster battleships with their foot and a half guns were the core of the gun line. A few ships built before the Tokyo Earthquake could have beefed up the numbers, but the value that they contributed did not justify the oil that they would burn. Half a dozen cruisers including Asama and Ibuki were operating to brush aside any screen and to act as limited radar pickets. Two dozen escorting destroyers looked for American and British submarines, although the minefields at Tshumina had probably worked as no ships had been torpedoed in this confined sea since the war began.
Two days to train together, two days to revisit doctrines that had been revised while officers waited for their ships to be repaired. Two days to make a collection of hulls into a plausible fleet. It would not be enough, but it was what the oil reserves would allow.
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